


Agresseur

by JustJasper



Series: Paramour [2]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst, Hospitals, Injury, M/M, PTSD, Panic, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-05-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 22:29:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1664873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustJasper/pseuds/JustJasper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sort-of sequel to Paramour. The aftermath of the fuck-or-die situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Agresseur

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this potential sequel in my WIP folder for years, and I thought I would excise it. If this work feels unfinished or sparse, it's because it's not really a finished thing. But it's something I have absolutely no interest in working on. I think it took a back burner when I started [The Winter Is Warmer](http://archiveofourown.org/works/229104/chapters/347934), since there would have been some similar thematic elements (e.g. I had plans for the [Paramour](http://archiveofourown.org/works/236705) sequel to involve therapy).
> 
> So I offer you this fic as-is, and hope you enjoy it for that. This sequel will never be expanded, and there will not being any more linked directly to [Paramour](http://archiveofourown.org/works/236705).

 

Reid pressed his fingers tentatively to the skin of his neck, next to the first degree burn on the left side where one of the contacts of the shock collar he'd been forced to wear had rested. It was uncomfortable, but it wouldn't leave permanent damage. He looked up at the sound of footfalls, and Prentiss had a warm smile for him. She bumped the hospital room door shut with her hip, and crossed to where he was perched on the edge of the bed to press a cup of coffee into his hand.

"Is Morgan done with his examination?" He asked. "I want to go see him, but I think he'd appreciate privacy considering..." he let the words hang, because she knew what he was referencing. Reid had agreed to his own sexual assault examination automatically, but he'd realised it would be more extensive for Morgan. The only consolation Reid could think of was that they both knew the other was free from diseases.

"He discharged himself," she said softly.

"Already?"

"I don't think he wanted to be here longer than he needed to be. Hotch is driving him home. He'll probably try to talk to him, too."

Reid nodded, slipping his hands around the warm cup, letting the smell envelop his olfactory sense.

"Do you need to talk, Reid?" She asked evenly.

"I already told Rossi what needed to be added to the profile; the unsub's focus on causing Morgan physical pain, his delusion-"

"Reid," she interrupted gently, "I don't mean for the profile. I mean for you."

The coffee was weak and sugary, but it spread warmth through him that was much welcomed. Prentiss was still watching him, though her gaze was soft and he knew if he didn't say anything she wouldn't press the issue. He knew he was going to have to talk eventually; they'd both be required to go to counselling, and whether Morgan ever wanted to see him again or not they'd have to talk about what had happened.

"Morgan and I have been in a romantic and sexual relationship for eight months, two weeks and four days," he settled on finally.

"Eight?" She lifted her own cup to her mouth. "I'm glad."

"Glad?"

"Reid, I was one hundred percent sure you both had romantic feelings for each other within a month of me joining the team." Her shoulders bounced with a little laugh. "It's nice to know it's an actual established relationship now."

"Hopefully it still is," he said into his cup. Her gaze firmed.

"You didn't have a choice, Reid."

"There's always a choice."

"Well," she gave a thoughtful nod, "you made the choice that meant you both survived. It was the only logical choice to make, the best one, even considering what it entailed."

He pushed his hospital wristband around his wrist idly, his eyes dropping away from his friend's.

"I made him _bleed_ ," he whispered, as if it was a confession of a fact that wasn't already obvious. The tears caught him off guard, welling up and flooding out quickly before he could prepare for them. He wiped at the corners of his eyes with the back of each wrist in turn, passing his cup between his hands. "The physical force required to cause that kind of injury is-" he felt a little sob threaten him so he pressed his lips together and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Reid," she touched his elbow, lightly at first, and when he didn't move away gripped it more firmly, "it's not your fault."

"Yes it is. I caused it. I violated him, I injured him-"

"In an impossible situation where your other choices involved torture and death."

"Emily, I was pathetic," he sighed in frustration, breath hitching as he lifted his head. "Morgan was brave. So much braver than I was. I was-" his breath shuddered out and his shoulders shook with a small silent sob, "I would have gotten us killed. Morgan got us through, he sacrificed-" he had to actually press his fingertips to his mouth to regain his composure as he remembered what Morgan had given to get Reid through it; _"fuck me"_ and _"I want it"_ and intimate language that had been only theirs. He remembered Morgan making him focus, Morgan's willingness to comply to limit the pain they received, and the way his own reactions had gained them more shocks than necessary.

"Reid, it doesn't matter if you weren't brave, it wasn't a test. You survived, that's what matters," she reasoned.

"It does matter, though. I was forced into a dominant role, the physical trauma was considerably greater to Morgan, and I should have been the one to support him, to guide the exchange to limit the effect on him. I didn't. I couldn't even ejaculate to end the assault without his help. I couldn't make him ejaculate, I couldn't even get him aroused."

"Do you think arousal during forced sex is something that would have lessened the trauma for Morgan?" she posed. "You didn't fail by not being able to get him aroused. We both know Morgan well enough to know he wouldn't want to let that unsub see his pleasure as well as his pain."

Reid nodded, knowing that Prentiss was right, but it didn't make him feel any better for what he'd done.

"Will you give me a ride home?"

She looked like she wanted to say something else, but she didn't, instead nodded and smiled kindly at him.

\---

"I should have called," Reid said as soon as Morgan opened the door to him, flooding the dark porch with light. He lifted the DVD box he was holding and smiled sincerely. "I didn't know if you'd want to see me."

Morgan returned the smile and stepped aside to let him in, taking the offered box and examining it. Clooney was surprisingly docile, usually excitable when Reid arrived even though he'd got used to the man's presence during the months they'd been together.

"Star Wars," he commented as he walked through into the living room. "Extended edition. You remember when we went to see episode three? You brought a lightsaber with you and got into at least three battles with small children."

He laughed, but when he looked up Reid was staring intently at him, one arm folded around himself and the other lifted near his face, his lips pressed against the side of his fingers.

"Your neck," he said. Morgan moved his head, conscious of the medical dressing on both sides and the back of his neck.

"It's not that bad." He shrugged.

"This is ‘not that bad'," he gestured to the lingering red mark on his own neck, "electrical burns typically leave external damage at a much lower rate than temperature burns." He stepped closer, raking his eyes over Morgan's dressed wounds. "The collars were either poorly made or rigged deliberately to cause physical injury as well as pain."

"Can we...?" Morgan gestured with the DVD box, and Reid nodded.

"Yes. Sorry," he murmured as he took the case and went to put in the first disc as Morgan settled on the sofa. He saw Reid's shoulder's stiffen at the little sound of discomfort he couldn't mask as he sat down. Sore was an understatement, he considered, as he tried to find an angle to sit in that didn't put pressure on the intimate injury he had. When Reid turned away from the television, he noticed. Morgan watched the man's face fall, before he quickly composed himself and sat down on the opposite end of the sofa.

He hadn't been sure what to expect, but the distance Reid established between them made everything more real. He knew initiating physical contact again after what had happened was not simple, but physical contact had become such a significant part of their relationship it felt wrong to sit on the sofa together, afraid to touch. When Clooney clambered up on the couch between them, Morgan didn't stop him, because it gave them an excuse in passing for their distance.

Reid didn't say a word as the film played. When they got to watch movies together Morgan would tease him about his running commentary, but at that moment he'd have given anything for Reid to have been commenting on the CGI process or the cultural significance of Tattooine. He tried to focus on the fiction to distract himself, fighting reality's hold on his mind. Every time he had to move because he was uncomfortable he was reminded of what had happened, and nearby Reid would look like he was fighting the urge to vomit. As the credits rolled Reid finally spoke hesitantly.

"It's late. Maybe I could come over again tomorrow and we could watch episode two?"

"Yeah." Morgan nodded. "Or," he watched the man as he busied himself smoothing down the front of his cardigan, "you could stay."

"Stay?" Reid's eyes were moving quickly over him, studying any minute expression he could pick up on. "Do you want me to stay?"

"Spencer, I just want you to touch me," he let out in a hollow laugh, realising all of a sudden just how much ‘want' was actually ‘need'.

Reid moved quickly, unceremoniously shoving Clooney off the couch, ignoring the dog's indignant whine as he closed the distance between them, putting his hands on Morgan as soon as he could reach; on his arms, one sliding up gently to rest on his bicep, the other grasping the man's hand and drawing it up to press his lips against the knuckles.

"Derek I'm sorry," he murmured as Morgan's free hand slid against his neck, thumb running along his jaw line. "I'm so sorry."

"It wasn't your fault," Morgan assured, leaning forward to press his forehead against Reid's own.

"But I still hurt you."

"No you didn't, I'm fine-"

"You're not fine," Reid whispered, pulling Morgan's hand against his chest, clutching it to himself. "I know I inflicted significant physical-"

Morgan thought Reid had faltered because what he was admitting was too emotionally jarring to vocalise, that he was steeling himself, but then he pulled Morgan's hand away from his chest a little. He peered at it, his fingers brushing over Morgan's as his brow creased. The older realised what had attracted the man's attention when he laced their fingers together; Reid's nails were clipped short, Morgan's were a few millimetres long.

"You didn't have a rape kit done." Reid's mouth hung open slightly, eyes slowly travelling up to meet the other man's as he increased the distance between their faces. If he'd had the examination his nails would have been scraped and clipped.

"No," he confirmed.

"Why?"

"It wasn't necessary."

"It was _completely_ necessary, Derek," Reid murmured in disbelief. "You were raped. I-"

"It wasn't rape, I gave consent."

"Because you were forced to, not because you wanted to."

"You were forced as much as I was."

"I had a kit done."

"I didn't want one," Morgan said, leaning back, but not pulling his hand away from where Reid still held it. "We're not looking for a rapist. The DNA evidence is of no value, we already know what happened."

"Yes, but a sexual assault evaluation assesses the physical damage sustained from an assault," Reid hastened to add, "did you refuse any examination at all?"

"It's not like I haven't dealt with this kind of injury before," he sighed, and then grimaced because Reid quickly understood the reference and crumbled, pulling Morgan's hand back against his chest and bowing his head over it as if he was afraid the other would pull away.

"I'm sorry."

"Wasn't your fault, Spencer." He spread his hand out against Reid's chest, angling his palm over the man's heart. It was beating fast, and he shuddered with the effort of what Morgan understood was not simply bursting into tears at the unfairness of it all.

"I think you need to go back to the hospital, get an examination," he insisted.

"No, Spencer. Hotch tried to get me to go back, I won't. I can't have a Doctor poking at me."

"Okay." Reid whispered, putting his lips against Morgan's knuckles again.

"C'mon."

There was no routine this time; they ended up in the bedroom, and didn't know what to do next. Finally Reid pulled his sweater off over his head, and in the dimness Morgan saw purple bruises in the shapes of fingertips on his biceps and back from where he'd held onto him. Morgan did the same, trying not to show how much his neck hurt as he stretched.

"How bad are they?" Reid asked.

"Second degree. Probably gonna scar where the contacts burnt me."

Reid looked like he was going to apologize again, but instead he dropped his gaze and shimmied out of his slacks and underwear, revealing himself to Morgan, letting him drink in his body as catharsis. There were bruises on his hips and his genitals looked sore and red. Morgan removed the rest of his clothing too, and there was bruising spreading over the inside of his thighs that Reid couldn't stop looking at.

"Derek, I'm-"

"Spencer," Morgan said, voice cracking, "I just wanna sleep. I just want this day to end."

Eyes still lingering on the bruises he'd inflicted, he nodded and followed Morgan's lead to climb into bed.

 


End file.
